


𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐑𝐒! ➛ a. keiji

by KKOZUMAE



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Haikyuu Month, Haikyuu Week, Haikyuu!! AU Week, M/M, Multi, Music, Third Gym (Haikyuu!!), Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29433195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KKOZUMAE/pseuds/KKOZUMAE
Summary: ❛❜𝙞 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙖𝙬 𝙞𝙩in which a struggling musicianturns  to  the  internet  for helpwith    his    lyrics    and     startsreceiving    anonymous  letters𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙞'𝙢 𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙩𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙢𝙚❛❜𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘶𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘺/𝘯!───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────© haikyuu belongs to haruichifurudate© plot belongs to @/A-AMAEJIKI
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟬 • 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱, 𝘪 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺!

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

it was keiji's fifth "pacing around" cycle, in a futile attempt to get a break from writing and letting his brain cool down. however, the difference between his reality and one of a successful musician was the words on the paper: which, in his case, were nonexistent. his hand fidgeted with his black-ink pen as blank pages stared at him in disbelief, as if to say _"wow, so much for being a musician, huh?"_ in the most mocking way they could.

the deafening silence, the absence of the ink — an ink he hoped to run down the cheap printer paper, filling it with poetry — burdened him like no other. it was as if he'd stopped on his track, like he was the poorest excuse of a composer there ever could be. in truth, he was never that awesome at writing songs: he'd always counted with the help of his manager and friend, ichika watanabe. _bokuto's girlfriend really is an angel,_ the blue-eyed man thought.

his apartment, on the other hand, was everything but empty. walking in on a pile of clothes scattered carelessly across the floor was nothing like staring at invisible stanzas, and that made keiji mad. he knew he needed to make his bed, clean his floor, open his windows, but nothing came to him. much like gazing at his lack of lyrics, it bothered him to the furthest extent that his mind was so engrossed in writing that he hadn't even left his room, let alone cleaned it. although he knew his roommate and best friend — bokuto koutarou— wouldn't mind the mess (he was quite the messy one himself, after all), akaashi knew he had to do something about it. he knew, yet he couldn't.

running his long fingers through his disarranged hair, akaashi sat on his desk's creaking chair, which cried out loud when he plopped himself down on it. muttering some sort of all-over-the-place melody, the struggling musician reached for his phone in an act of pure impulse, wanting to call his manager and ask for help once more. _but koutarou did say they were on a date... i don't want to bother._

as he gave up on dialing ichika's number and pleading for help, keiji realized he could turn to someone else. a long glance at his computer screen gave the man the idea to ask the one place on which he swore never to depend for help: the internet. typing "writing forums" on the browser tab, akaashi laid his fingertips on the keyboard restlessly, silently hoping for great ideas to pop up. he clicked on the website entitled "write with us", created an account, and began to digitize his concerns:

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

hey! i don't expect any of you to answer this, but can someone help me with songwriting? i've been struggling lately...

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

he wondered if that request had been worded well enough. after all, he did struggle with phrasing what he felt. as his hands mimicked a beat he'd heard before on the gray computer, his blue eyes noticed that one notification pop-up on the upper right corner of his screen. _@musicalities sent you a reply!_ immediately after seeing the notification, keiji could feel his eyes glistening as they anxiously watched the user _@musicalities_ 's response to his request. much to his dismay, however, it didn't contain song lyrics. what it did contain was an odd answer:

 **from:** **_@musicalities_**

can you send me your address? i don't trust the net with my lyrics, and i'd rather send my ideas through letters...

**sent from _unknown_**

_wow, this person really doesn't like being identified on the internet. even their address is hidden._ in reality, the man had no idea what to reply. slender fingers danced on the keyboard, longing for his response, as if his hands had been detached from his mind, wanting to type an answer of themselves. another notification.

**from: _@musicalities_**

don't worry, i'm not a creep :)

**sent _from unknown_**

_said like true creep,_ he thought. even though that smiley face made him uneasy, akaashi had a gut feeling telling him he could trust this person with his issues. in the end, it wasn't like he was confiding in them with his greatest secret, just a struggle hovering over him like a hungry eagle, in which he was the prey.

he clicked on the user's link, and saw nothing but a landscape photo of a sunrise behind a mall, but no street signs that could tell him where they were. their header was also absent, and so were their posts. nothing other than a profile picture and a short description saying _"just another japanese writer". well, at least they're from japan._ the blue-eyed man clicked on the "private message" button and sent the person a reply with his address. now all it was left for him was to wait. 

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** heyo!! and here it is, the long awaited fanfic !! just a reminder: this fanfic will include some lyrics i wrote myself, and while my writing may be not as shitty, my songwriting certainly is. heh. anyways, i just wanted to put those lyrics here instead of other known lyrics cause then the work would be entirely mine, and i wouldn't depend on other music. i don't know if this makes sense, lol. although i don't have that many finished lyrics, so i may or may not include other songs in here. 

did you like the prologue? i hope you did :) if you did though, please consider leaving a comment with your opinion, a vote and share it around! i always say this and it's probably annoying by now, but it would mean a lot to me. as always, thank you for reading!

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	2. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟭 • 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

the letter took three days to arrive. sitting impatiently while talking on the phone with ichika, akaashi rambled on about what it felt to have a never-ending writer's block. the apartment, as always, reflected his and his roommate's messiness, the gray undertones of the walls slowly showing up through cracks on the navy-blue paint. he was about to shout to bokuto — who was taking a very long shower and belting notes of which the musician himself wasn't even aware of the existence — for him to fix the fissures with some photographs or a drawing, but then he remembered how koutarou was studying code, not visual arts.

"so that's what i was saying, dear. you need to get yourself out there to get out of this creative block..." ichika said, ever so patiently. the woman was truly an angel: the calmest person akaashi had ever met, which balanced out his best friend's hyperactiveness.

"well, i don't think it's about whether i 'get myself out there' or not. i just think i don't have the talent for this," keiji replied, which was partly true. in fact, the blue-eyed man had once been on the epitome of his songwriting skills, but something had stopped him, like a train coming to a halt in the middle of the track. watanabe answered with serene hums, showing she understood his position, yet didn't agree with what he'd said.

"well, i did talk to so-" keiji was about to say he had previously met another writer on the internet, but was quickly interrupted by the excited voice of an ichika who had apparently just got her pizza.

"damn, i was starving! gotta go now, tell bo i said hi!" she said, and ended the call.

keiji threw his slim body on the couch on which he sat as soon as his manager hung up the phone, and so did he. humming an indefinite melody, the musician thought about how he'd tell watanabe-san about the person he'd met. _what can i say? i don't even know their name or where they live!_ in his imagination, he'd start with something along the lines of "i just met this stranger and sent them my address" and hope for ichika not to slap his dumb face and retort something along the lines of "you're stupid!". truly, he felt stupid.

bokuto had left his 2-hour long shower concert. "ichika says hi," keiji said, to which koutarou replied with a dreamy smile as he went back to his room to fetch something he'd probably forgotten.

"'kaashi, i'm leaving to meet with ichi-chan for pizza, you want anything along the way?" keiji's friend asked, as agitated as ever. akaashi shook his head as if to say "no, thanks" and plunked atop the sofa once again. in reality, akaashi was too tired to eat, overcome by a sinking feeling of uselessness. he closed his eyes, wishing for no more tone-deaf taylor swift covers filling his ears as his friend made his way out the door, but shot them open when he came back, said "there's mail for you!" and left once more.

bokuto had left a pile of papers atop their dining table — which was actually just a wooden, rectangle-shaped table the approximate size of a child's desk. akaashi sat on the wooden chair that matched the table. along with the papers koutarou had just left, there were some lunch leftovers (namely, sushi take-outs) and keys. _shit, bokuto forgot his keys again._ keiji wondered if he should call his friend, but he figured he wouldn't be leaving the house any time soon, thus he could open the door for the grey and black-haired man. _he's probably going to stay at watanabe-san's place, anyway._

to be honest, akaashi didn't expect to get the lyrics that soon. the three days in between him talking to this _@musicalities_ user and getting mail delivered on his doorstep were filled with nothing but grunts of exasperation as the musician tried — and failed to write his own lyrics. _truly, what has happened to me?_ going through all the papers and trying to pretend he wasn't excited, — the good old "won't get my hopes up in case they're crushed down" trope — keiji took deep breaths between each letter. however, nothing could be more anticlimactic that receiving a bunch of bills when one is expecting songs. _bills, bills, bills, mom sent a postcard from italy, bills..._

and there it was: the knight in shining armor, the savior of akaashi's plummeting music career on which he'd spent more money than he'd like to admit, the one thing keeping him from giving it all up and passing the art student debt on to his parents. _@musicalities_ ' letter.

the envelope said it had come from akita. _so they do live in japan, after all._ keiji took yet another deep, deep breath, filling his lungs with as much oxygen he possibly could, only to let it all out seconds later in an attempt to ease his spirits. his hand had started shaking, and he couldn't grab hold of his bouncing leg either. the envelope had two papers in it, one which keiji assumed was a note. it started as the following:

◦'𖥸'◦

_see? not a creep! i'm just sending you all this so you can be (hopefully) successful in your career, so there's no need for you to credit me. in fact, i'd rather you not do that at all, if you can. please don't mention this to anyone, okay? it'll be our little secret. also, this is just a test-drive of sorts, in which you can test out my lyrics and see if you like them or not. if you do like them, you can always talk to me and we'll arrange things. as i see it now, i can send you letters weekly. hope this helps!_

_hugs,_

_musicalities._

◦'𖥸'◦

stunned, the black-ehaired man went on to the next paper, not without smiling at the kind note the user had left him. _i really do owe you a lot, huh?_ he thought to himself as his blue eyes darted from the first note to the second, now written in ink and not from a printer, which akaashi assumed was because of sentimentality. authors tend to connect with their work through their pen, after all. if the first note had been startling, the lyric itself was certainly staggering. adorned with royalty-worthy handwriting, keiji examined each curve and line of the letters that mashed together, creating beautiful stanzas of poetry. he couldn't thank them enough for what they had done to help him. entitled "boy problems" he began to read the lyrics:

◦'𖥸'◦

_it's called survival of the fittest, and i'm not fit enough_

_it's just a phase and soon we'll quit it, well maybe i am stuck_

_and this ain't called a mood swing, it's emotional parkour_

_and if you run away and leave me, i'll follow you for sure_

_there are a hundred other reasons why i could write this song_

_but you're the victim, i'm the killer, you're the big fish in the pond_

_and now i'm belting off these chords and i'm kissing you goodbye_

_'cause i am reaching all my limits with all your petty lies_

_i'm against the wall while you are thriving, push me off the edge_

_and i know too damn well you're hiding, yet i'm too lazy to care_

_i could swim a thousand oceans, but quickly i would drown_

_and it's probably on purpose, oh god i'm such a clown_

_you tell me that you're the good guy, that you're all about the love_

_well, call me crazy, call me insane, but that's not what's going on_

_you tell me that you hate everything i do_

_but give me ten reasons to hate me, i'll give eleven to hate you_

_oh, please, won't you give me that ring?_

_'cause i know a good place where you can shove this thing_

_i found a letter that you wrote me, it sounds just like a poem_

_it also sounds like you were stupid, it sounds like you're in love_

_and i could apologize for all the things i've done_

_well listen, here's my apology: oh, shit, i've got none_

_you tell your friends that you want me to burn in hell_

_not gonna lie, it's kinda hot in here, you should know it all too well_

_'cause if god's actually real and he judges all your acts_

_you've got a pass to eternal damnation just for being an ass_

_oh, please, won't you give me that ring?_

_'cause i know a great place where you can shove this thing_

_i'm sorry about the things i said_

_but that gives you no excuse to be such a shithead_

◦'𖥸'◦

"oh, this will help alright," akaashi said, letting out a relieved sigh from his lips. he finally had a song.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

**a/n:** yay!! first lyric posted lolol :) what do y'all think? little story time: i once dated this boy that seemed to like me a lot, but then i realized i couldn't stay with him because he was planning to ask me to be officially his partner, and i didn't like him enough, you know? well, i decided to break up with him because i didn't want to hurt his feelings by being a shitty partner, but then he started talking behind my back about how reserved i was, about how i never told him anything (knowing full well that that's not because i'm a bad person, but it's actually because of past experiences) and how he wanted me (and i quote) to rot in hell. how fun :) anyways, i got petty and wrote him a song !!

also, i just realized i haven't recorded any of this, so you probably won't be able to hear how it sounds like... yikes. if i do record it one day, i'll put it here, don't worry :) also please don't hate me i swear i'm not always that petty lol i was really hurt and wanted to let my feelings out through a song :) 

what did you think of the chapter? if you liked it, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around! i hope you liked it, love u guys <3

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	3. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟮 • 𝘴𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘶𝘵𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

law firms were the worst for [y/n]. they could have been anywhere but there, anywhere but in that cramped, 4 square meter-ed desk job. in fact, nothing was worse than being stuck revising spreadsheets and picking up other people's calls and redirecting them to their boss in the writer's opinion. _it's what you settled for, so suck it._ nonetheless, [y/n] was unhappy. in that "nine to five" job, they would spend at least a third of their time doing absolutely nothing. the firm was big, but the boss was such a control freak, [y/n] was beginning to think he'd gotten a secretary just for show — or coffee. that man surely did love coffee.

even though [y/n] clearly hated the job they had, they had to admit the decorations at least were nice. nearing the christmas season and thus the end of the year, the boss has chosen to place some holiday decorations along the hallways, those which didn't strike much surprise in [y/n]'s coworkers: "he always does that," one of them laughed. season's shenanigans aside, the firm had the typical layout: interns and other lawyers stayed all together, desks as close as they could possibly get; secretaries sat beside each other, chatting and gossiping about the most varied subjects ([y/n] had tons of information on the people that lived nearby to use as blackmail); and [y/n], as the boss' personal secretary, sat away from all of them. that made them feel pretentious, as if they were standing on a geographic pedestal away from the plebe. the writer held back a laugh at how ridiculous that assumption was.

trying to ease their brain out of stressful inner quarrels, the desk began to creak as [y/n] leaned their body backward on their chair, pushing themself with their arms straight and hands holding on to the edge of the table — just on the brink between falling from it and not doing so. however, they worried their big-lawyer boss was going to waltz into the room and see his secretary was falling face flat on the floor. quickly regaining their composure, the writer hurriedly opened a masking tab of excel spreadsheets they couldn't bear the sight of. as their mind wandered in between numbers and sums of money, they thought about keiji and the letter they'd sent him.

[y/n] didn't expect much from akaashi. they had sent him what he'd asked for, but certainly didn't think he would use the lyrics or even reply to them on the forum. regarding this situation, they tried to be as laid-back as they possibly could — without falling from the chair, of course. still, curiosity killed the cat and it was about to kill the writer as well. they opened the forum and closed the excel tab: one reply. turning on all notifications for the musician's replies and whatnot, [y/n] read the message.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

thank you so much! the lyrics are amazing.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

the secretary couldn't hold back the blush that creeped on their face. hearing an opening of the main office door, — one catches on to those noises when one hears it a couple times — their head shot back and their eyes took a quick glance at the figure that stepped outside the room. as the grey-suited lawyer made his way out of his office and asked for coffee, [y/n] hid their open tab behind one of the numbers with the replies from keiji.

"good evening, mr. sato. how can i help you?" they said, trying to turn their red face back to normal, hoping their boss wouldn't notice. the man clearly did, and looked from side to side, searching for the faintest clue as to why his personal secretary had been blushing as soon as he entered the room. [y/n] noticed the change in his eyes, as if an idea had been forming in his mind, yet he shook his head, pushing those thoughts aside. further, the secretary wondered if he was going to ask for his fifth cup of coffee of the day.

"can i have a coffee?" there it was. predictable, thus [y/n] was disappointed yet not surprised. still, it was an odd request for that time of day in [y/n]'s opinion. _time of night, to be precise,_ they scoffed in their head. almost midnight, and the boss was still working. _must be tough to be rich._

"sure! i'll grab it straight away." with a dismissive smile, [y/n] left their desk and went to get their boss' ever-so-desired coffee. nevertheless, what they didn't see, hiding behind a browser window of endless numbers, was keiji had just sent another message, one that had the potential to make [y/n] blush as hard as ever.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

you're really talented :)

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** i have come to the conclusion that i absolutely suck at planning chapters. like, seriously, this bit was supposed to go on the last chapter i posted (the first one), but then the first one was too big and i had to put it here, but then this one was too small. ugh!!!!!!!!!!! i need to get better at this. anyways, how are y'all? 

this was just a chapter to talk about [y/n]'s job and how they hate it, which reflects a lot on my crazy shitsunami of schoolwork that i have to do. i really do be stressed, huh? well, i hope you guys liked this chapter (i know it was really really short, but i promise the next one's going to be better!). if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around :) as always, thank you for reading!

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	4. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟯 • 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘳

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

two weeks had passed between akaashi receiving the lyrics and actually deciding to do something with them. ever since then, not a word was spoken between the musician and [y/n]. in fact, what held him back from talking to the writer was the tension he'd feel whenever he'd open the forum or even get near the off-white envelope in which the letter had come. keiji knew it was stupid, still he fell into the black hole he'd later call "guilt".

yes, guilt. after all, he had been using someone else's lyrics for his own selfish purposes, and that was the most dishonorable act a musician could ever do. however, the bigger issue that bore its fangs at the man was not doing anything with the beautiful poems, even though he had texted _@musicalities_ about how talented they were. _you need to do something and actually show them you're grateful, you piece of shit!_ he'd constantly tell himself, day after day, every morning.

one could argue and call it laziness, but keiji decided to give it the name of "i can't pick up my guitar even with all this great external stimulus". in truth, he'd been trying his hardest not to give up on all that and quit it, yet knowing that this stranger on the internet had his back had inspired him to at least try. so that was what he did.

grabbing his acoustic guitar, (he had a feeling the song was fit for the acoustic one instead of the electric one) the man started strumming chord progressions he knew would fit into his idea of the song's melody. the pattern went up and down multiple times, creating a melody of g and c chords, the strings almost melting together in harmony. humming a simple but steady melody, akaashi now had his song.

the blue-eyed man put his recording equipment together — he still had all those cables and microphones, you know, just in case he got out of his creative slump — and started to sing. as his soft, tender voice filled his own ears, akaashi felt at peace, just as if he was back in the good old days, when he'd stay up all night writing with only the company of the moon and the blissful stars by his side, shining through the crack on his windowsill. even though the words were not entirely his, he felt a sense of ownership over them: he did know how to sing of heartbreak, at the end of the day. the video was done, and thus he sent it to [y/n], hoping they would say something.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

[sent a video]

what do you think?

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

the response came as quickly as the first message itself:

**from: _@musicalities_**

looks great! you should post it on youtube or something

**sent from _unknown_**

a smile creeped its way upon keiji's face. just as he was about to ask the user what part they liked most, he heard a knock on the door. he wondered who it was, but the wondering ceased as soon as he heard the signature "i can't wait for more than three seconds for you to open the door" knock. _koutarou must have forgotten his keys. again._ letting his black-and-grey haired friend in, akaashi noticed the man had brought them a bag of groceries and pizza.

the truth was, neither of them could cook. bokuto had tried his hand at gastronomy once, and ended up making a flour-y mess that would last for weeks hadn't he profusely apologized and spent the whole evening cleaning it up with keiji. akaashi himself, on the other hand, had aimed at chocolate chip cookies and landed on burnt volcanic rocks. hence why bokuto always brought food, otherwise both would starve.

"forgot your keys again?" keiji asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question.

"you know it," bokuto said with a wink, placing all the items he had bought atop the wooden table. akaashi took his friends' confused frown at all the music equipment set on the living room floor as a cue to both explain it to his musically illiterate friend and take it away from their path. the room was already small enough, after all.

"this is just for music. guess i'm back on my track..." akaashi said. "how's watanabe-san?" he asked, hoping to hear about his manager — and maybe divert the subject away from his career.

the question evoked a bright smile from koutarou. "she's great! just came back from her house. well, i was getting groceries, but i was at her house before. she redid some decoration and it looks-" the man stopped on his track, analyzing his blue-eyed friend's face. akaashi, on the other end, stared at him stoically; blinking was all he could do. "oh, well. you don't seem very interested. i won't bother, then." the then excited bokuto turned into a sulking one, his smile turning upside down as he averted eye contact with his friend.

akaashi had realized what his naturally neutral facial expressions had cost him. "no, please, go on. i'm dying to know about your girlfriend's decorations," he said, trying to sound as sincere as he possibly could.

noticing akaashi was interested in what he was previously talking about, bokuto's frown turned into a cheerful smile once more. "oh, okay. then, it looks like a christmas tree but in a good way-"

even though the musician tried his best to keep his focus directed at koutarou, he couldn't help but think about the lyrics he had just sung. his blue eyes, now weary from tiredness, dazed off and turned bleary, as if he had been watching his friend move through a veil of thick fog. he wondered why they had wrote such angry lyrics, and why they were directed at that boy, and what that boy had done to anger them. _they seemed like such a nice person, who could have hurt them that way...?_

"-and you can barely tell the wall from the ceiling! it looks so cool." bokuto finished his rambling about ichika's wall decorations. still, he knew akaashi was tired and had tons of things on his mind already. "anyways, whatcha thinking about?" he asked, hoping to hear more from his friend.

"oh, uh..." akaashi stammered, "nothing. just thinking."

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** heyo! im back hehe :) sorry for the late update by the way, i was doing some school stuff and completely forgot yikes :P anyways, did you like the chapter? what do you think is going to happen next? if you're liking the story so far, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around :) i don't mean to be petty, but i don't think this book's getting as much love as elementary got. idk why, but if you have any constructive criticism, don't be afraid to tell me! i'll accept any kind of criticism if you put it kindly :)) 

as always, thank you so much for reading! signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	5. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟰 • 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘴

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

[y/n] sat on their couch, slouching because of daily back pains that sent stinging rays of ache throughout their whole body — seemed slumping on a desk job really did take a toll on one's spine. they let out an expressive yawn, arching their whole body to relieve themself from stress pain. the headache from staring into a computer screen for too long lingered as long as it could, yet was quickly expelled from the writer's brain as they gulped down a sip of cold water with an aspirin. in the midst of all this work-related strain, the last thing [y/n] expected to receive was a message from akaashi. nevertheless, it was the first thing that popped into their screen.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

what did this poor dude do to you? he must have really hurt you, lmao.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

the writer assumed keiji was talking about the lyrics they'd sent him — after all, they were clearly directed at someone from their past. furthermore, the habit the musician had of putting a full stop after each sentence turned the already-very-cynical message into an even-more-cynical one. [y/n]'s eyes rolled to the back of their head as they typed their response.

**from: _@musicalities_**

it was my fault anyway. i broke up with this guy and he told all his friends i was an asshole.

**sent from _unknown_**

even though [y/n] tried to make light of the situation, they knew the actual story was hurtful. letting a sorrowful sigh escape their lips, the writer recalled all that had happened between them and their ex-boyfriend. _can i really call him an ex-boyfriend?_ _we never really dated, anyway,_ they thought as they made their way to the kitchen to get themself another cup of water. staring blankly at the then bottle of vodka now filled with water, [y/n] wondered if they should take coffee instead. _with all those files to sort out, it's going to be a long night._ still, they went with the water, knowing full well they'd drink coffee later anyway. akaashi had sent another message, the light of the notification hurting their tired eyes.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

wow. i'm sorry, lol.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

_and there he goes again, back at it with the full stops._ a lighthearted chuckle was the only thing that could be heard in the writer's apartment, except for the gulps of water they took ever so often. as another sip went down [y/n]'s dry throat, they began to wonder how they had fun while chatting with akaashi. indeed, he was on the other side of the country and a complete stranger, but the writer felt as if they had gotten to know bits of him while having jolly small talks.

what troubled them the most was the duality of the life they were leading — they kept their lyrics hidden in between black notebook pages and their face behind a computer at a desk job, never really admitting either of their identities. they felt like a fake, a con in the middle of the real, never truly disclosing who they were; not to strangers or themself.

despite all their distresses, they wrote of everything: love, hate, lies, you name it. and, finally, they had found a way to showcase their then concealed words: a musician on the other side of the country was willing to take them on and present them to the public. _if only tokyo wasn't so far away, i promise the city won't get in our way,_ they hummed, reminded of the lyrics of one of their favorite songs — "already home", by a great big world. after all, the city lights of tokyo were indeed notably distant from akita, in tohoku.

but that's how [y/n] wanted it to stay: anonymous, removed. they wanted to keep the musician far-off from his source of lyrics — which explained said lyrics being sent via mail, the profile picture being set as a landscape, and the location being unknown. _i'm not worth his attention. in fact, i'm not worth anyone's attention._ this time, the chosen beverage was neither coffee or water: a sip of alcohol went down the writer's system, burning their insides and filling them with newfound relief. the booze woke their fatigued eyelids up, and [y/n] was reminded of the message keiji had sent. they sent a reply.

**from: _@musicalities_**

it's fine :)

**sent from _unknown_**

with the "send" button click, came a thought. _why are you doing this...?_ with a sigh, they went back to sorting out files.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** sorry it took me so long to update this, but there you go !! now we can know more about [y/n]'s past, lmao. do yall know anyone who types w full stops? cause my dad does that and i think it's so funny lmfao. lol he's the best. anyways, how are u guys? i hope yall are fine. i myself am great :) im going to play volleyball for 3 hours today w my friend hehe. 

did you like the chapter? i hope u did :) if u did, pls consider giving it a vote n sharing it around !! it would mean a lot to me. as always, thank you so much for reading!

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	6. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟱 • 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘣𝘦! 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘶𝘱 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩...

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

ichika burst into akaashi's house as fast as she could when she heard the news. filled with anticipation as to how the musician would react, the short-haired woman could barely contain her joy. she often found herself wondering how keiji's usually stoic expression would change into one of happiness, or if he was going to stay just the same. nevertheless, the manager hopped along the man's hallway and knocked on his wooden-framed door.

in contrast to her evident exultation, akaashi's reaction was fruitless. he had clearly just woken up — since it was about 10 in the morning, and was not built to deal with contagious jubilation yet, let alone handle a jumping-up-and-down watanabe-san in his apartment that hour in the morning. the manager's cheerful semblant turned into one of confusion, marvelling about why the man wasn't as excited as she was. still, he made all his attempts to tell the woman his dull expression was not due to the underwhelming-ness of the great news — he was just too tired to process it. however, ichika didn't seem to take it that way.

"well, then you should know this huge producer wants to meet with us. well, you, since the song is yours," she said, trying to lift his spirits. truth was, even though "boy problems" had blown up on youtube, keiji did not think he was worthy of all that attention, given the man couldn't even write his own lyrics — and thus was a poor excuse for a musician, in his eyes.

bokuto, on the other hand, was as thrilled as his girlfriend. still, the feedback didn't come as quickly, for he was as tired as keiji. even so, he embraced her in a tight hug as soon as he saw her, spinning the woman around the room (which evoked desperation from his roommate, since he could break something right there and then). the grey-and-black haired man clearly couldn't contain his enthusiasm.

"dude! that's so cool!" he exclaimed to akaashi, right before giving watanabe-san a loving kiss on the cheek. "you're gonna be famous!"

ichika was quick to retort. "easy, kou. let's not get ahead of ourselves here, okay? tanaka-san wanting to meet with akaashi means he's got an opportunity..." the woman stopped on her tracks, as if she was about to add a contrasting phrase to her previous statement. "of a lifetime! come on, keiji, can't you be a little bit more excited?" the music production student pouted, hoping for at least a frail smile from her boyfriend's friend.

"alright, alright. this is great, don't get me wrong. i just..." keiji noticed the frowns on the couple's faces. _they don't know about @musicalities yet. i can't let them down right now._ that being said, akaashi made his best effort to muster a smile, finally showing some elation in regards to the news. "you know what? i'm glad. thank you, ichika," he said, giving his manager a pat on her right shoulder.

ichika muttered something along the lines of "don't sweat it, buddy", yet akaashi couldn't properly hear that, given all sound that came from her mouth was muffled by bokuto's biceps embraced around her body. _this man really does give the best hugs,_ watanabe thought to herself.

on the other end, the musician was worried about the whole "someone else is writing these lyrics for me" situation. he needed to confess to someone, and if that someone couldn't be ichika for the reason she'd definitely give him a scolding of sorts, that person had to be his best friend. "bokuto, can you come here for a second? there's this pipe i was you to take a look at," akaashi said, wanting to take bokuto out of the picture for a second or two. "don't worry, watanabe-san, we'll be back in a minute," he added, knowing his manager was the farthest away from stupid.

he pushed koutarou to the bathroom, hoping he'd gotten the message that akaashi wanted to talk in private. needless to say, his hopes went down the drain.

"so, where's the pipe? you know i can't fix things for shit-"

keiji rolled his eyes. "koutarou!" he whisper-shouted, "this isn't about a pipe, okay? focus, now." bokuto looked concerned for akaashi, which made the musician almost immediately regret deciding to confess to his friend. _nope. regretting can wait. i need this._ "here's the thing: you know how i got into that creative slump?" the blue-eyed man asked and bokuto nodded in response. "well, i didn't 'magically get out of it' like it seemed." akaashi made air quotes as he spoke the previous words. he was dreadfully nervous, still he wished for bokuto to understand. his roommate, however, didn't say anything — which turned akaashi's legs into jelly, shaking from anxiety.

nevertheless, he decided to go on with it. "well, i met this person on the internet, and they're helping me with the lyrics." well, "helping" was a futile attempt at an euphemism from akaashi's part. _@musicalities_ wasn't "helping" per se, more than they were actually writing for him. as an unpaid job. for a failure of a musician. _ugh, this rabbit hole is getting deeper and deeper._

bokuto's eyes fired with what looked like enthusiasm, but quickly died with akaashi's somber atmosphere. the tall man wondered if keiji had been talking to a stranger on the internet and getting help with his songwriting through tips and whatnot. however, something in the musician's eyes told him that was not the case. akaashi, on the other hand, knew bokuto was about to ask him a risky question.

"are you dating them? is that why they're helping you?" _and there it is,_ akaashi thought. the baffled bokuto could barely contain his eagerness — _my friend is finally dating!_

"no, bokuto, i'm not dating anyone," keiji answered, extracting a "aren't-you-really?" smirk from his friend. "i'm serious," he said. "they're sending me the lyrics through mail, that's all." he waited for a response from koutarou, who looked as if he was still processing that bit of information. suddenly, his eyes went back to firing.

"oh, so that's why you kept hiding those letters from me, right?! makes total sense now," he retorted. "are you going to tell this to ichika? she'd like to know..."

"i guess i can tell her later... i don't know. i've got to wait for now," the blue-eyed man said, hoping not to get a scolding from bokuto as well. he had tried to dodge that one by not telling watanabe-san for now, after all. still, koutarou responded to his claim with a confused frown, as if he knew something bad was about to happen if akaashi didn't come clean to his manager. almost as if...

"you better keep your tongue to yourself, bokuto koutarou." keiji knew his friend was prone to falling into the slippery slope of "too big a mouth, too little a conscience". he knew that, if he didn't convince his friend to keep his lips sealed before his girlfriend, keiji's secret would be out in the wild as quickly as the bat of an eye. bokuto didn't say anything, just made a zipping gesture in front of his mouth, saying "your secret's safe with me".

and, as much as akaashi knew he could trust his best friend, he wondered if his secret was in fact worth keeping — and if bokuto would actually do it. he sighed as he came out of the bathroom with a bad excuse as to why the pipe had held him and koutarou in there for so long, making his way to the door as the three of them left to meet with the producer. _this is going to be a long day._

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** hello my dears !! how's everyone doing? i hope yall are fine. i myself am great, i just finished painting two pictures inspired on the album "three cheers for sweet revenge" by my chemical romance (do yall know them? they recently got back together and i---- yes.). i may update my art book today, so stay tuned! :)

did yall like the chapter? if u did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing the book around! ty so so much <3 as always, thank you as well for reading this far, you guys are my world :) !!

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	7. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟲 • 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦-𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

arriving at the producer's office didn't take them 20 minutes — unfortunately, however, that was not due to lack of traffic. bokuto sped through every single yellow light possible, accumulating more tickets that he'd care to admit. watanabe-san swore she'd never let her boyfriend drive again, especially when they needed to be in one piece for a crucial meeting with an important person. akaashi, on the other hand, was more worried about the creaking noises — buried under shouts of "we're gonna die!" from both the musician and his manager — the car made with every jolt and sharp turn his roommate took.

still, the three of them arrived on time for the meeting, and akaashi's heart beated out of his chest as ichika opened the door for them to enter. the office was exactly what one would expect when meeting with a music producer — and a big one at that. himawari tanaka had her face plastered all across the room with all kinds of musicians she'd gotten to the top: rock bands, pop singers, and even upcoming artists akaashi recognized from his days on online platforms.

all at once, keiji felt intimidated by the inspiring aura that swallowed him whole, engulfing him in flames of imminent media attention as soon as he stepped foot into that office. the whole room just emanated the sour scent of the gateway into the music world, if there was such a thing. apart from pictures up on walls and whatnot, the room was indeed very inviting. the all-white walls filled with pictures suddenly didn't seem so startling as the lady in front of them showed the three a warm smile, welcoming them all inside her office.

"hello! good morning. so you're akaashi keiji, right?" she asked, her smile still present on her face as she chin pointed to the coffee machine, asking them if they wanted a cup. the blue-eyed man answered with a polite nod, too afraid to say anything. noticing akaashi was yet to feel comfortable in that environment, ichika took the reins.

"yes, he is," watanabe-san said, shaking the producer's hand. "i am ichika watanabe, his manager and friend — we've talked on the phone before — and that is koutarou bokuto," she added, looking at her boyfriend, who was sitting on the sofa next to the coffee machine with bouncing legs that could barely contain itselves. "my boyfriend." bokuto waved sympathetically to the woman.

keiji noticed how beautiful she was. not wasn't she only a huge producer in the musical world, — and interested in _him_ — making her an enormous source for motivation, she was also truly endearing, with her appealing gray-blue eyes and shoulder-length dark hair. she wasn't really tall (akaashi could tell that from the height comparisons the pictures gave him), but she acted as if she stood upon the tallest building, blessing us all from above.

the man was woken up from his trance with a nudge on his arm. ichika was begging with her dagger eyes for him to say something and not just stand there apathetically. "uh-hello," he managed to utter, "you saw my video on the internet, right?" he asked, hoping that had been a good enough conversation-starter.

"ah, yes, i did indeed," she said, looking at him fiercely in the eyes. "and it was amazing, by the way. the lyrics are great, i'll give you that. i just missed something more... let's see... deep, you know? something touching." keiji opened his mouth to suggest something, but was quickly interrupted by the producer. "don't get me wrong, i do love to bash on my exes' existence — that was what the song was about, right? — but i felt as if you could do more now. don't you agree?"

the woman went on rambling about how she would like to see him thrive in the music industry, not letting him share his own ideas. she talked about how he was clearly a man of extravagant potential, yet akaashi wavered on that concept, for he was too afraid to come clean about his unknown songwriter. while ichika and tanaka-san chatted back and forth about how they would work together to polish akaashi's music and turn him into a superstar. _the two of them do get along, huh?_

he looked across the room, only to find bokuto still staring mindlessly at the pictures on the walls. still, he had known his friend for long enough to know he was uneasy, wondering if talking about the internet user who was helping akaashi to write his lyrics would mean his downfall in the eyes of this big producer. keiji could clearly see koutarou's mind realizing a lot more was at stake now. he had looked for a stance coming from his friend, yet he'd found his friend only to be even more confused than himself.

himawari turned to akaashi once more. "look, i just want a single for now. something flashy. if you're willing to do it, just let me know. your wonderful manager has got my number," she said, shooting a wink at ichika, who now seemed to be her bestest friend.

the musician was still a bit unsure. _i've got to talk to @musicalities first, after all._ "can i wait a bit? just so i can clear off my head and think about it." with those words, he had expected ichika to dig her nails into his arm in a "i just got you here, can't you be a little more grateful?" way or for the producer to eye him like a hawk, wondering why he wasn't accepting his chance, given that was an opportunity of a lifetime. still, the women did none of the sort.

"of course, dear. it's your music, after all," she said, with a smile and a nod — which shook akaashi to his very core, knowing all too well that it really wasn't. ichika and bokuto bid goodbye to the producer, and the last thing they saw before leaving her office was a heartfelt hand-wave, indicating she'd liked keiji and was willing to work with him from now on.

ichika motioned she'd like to go to the bathroom really quick, and hopped her way to the nearest one, right behind the receptionist's desk. meanwhile, keiji stood by and tapped his feet anxiously on the floor, waiting for bokuto to strike up a conversation about _@musicalities._ and so he did. his friend touched his shoulder lightly, an act not so difficult for him due to the rather similar height they had.

"are you going to talk to them about this? i mean, the internet person?" he asked, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes like an owl. akaashi simply sighed, knowing things were about to get harder.

◦'𖥸'◦

[y/n] had been held back at work when they received keiji's text.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

just met with this big producer today... she wants to record a single with a new song.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

they gasped so hard it took them a minute to realize what they had done. they looked around to certify themselves that no one had heard them — thus avoiding any unwanted, meaningless small talk with their coworkers. they weren't exactly the best at social interaction, at the end of the day. nonetheless, there was no one there that could have heard it, except for their boss. mr. sato had also been held back with some sort of online meeting, hence why the poor secretary was still waiting for their boss to finish working.

the chilling air conditioner of the law firm pricked their skin and sent shivers down their spine. however, they paid so little attention to their body reacting to the gelid breeze that filled the office, given the current circumstances. they had swore to themselves that they would not get invested with keiji's music business, but how could they? in their overall dull life, nothing could be more exciting than someone close to you (even though miles apart, and almost complete strangers) getting a deal with a producer. _and a big one at that._ they replied as soon as they could, thrilled with the news.

**from: _@musicalities_**

ooh, nice! i'm gonna send you something new!

**sent from _unknown_**

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

thank you :) by the way, did you see your song hit 1 million views on youtube?

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

**from: _@musicalities_**

wow, really? that's great! but it's your song, though

**sent from _unknown_**

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

you wrote it ;)

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

**from: _@musicalities_**

doesn't mean i sung it ;)

**sent from _unknown_**

the writer laughed at their bright computer screen once more, glad to be talking to him. it truly never was a boring day when they chatted with akaashi. the man seemed to like their casual banter as well, even when it didn't concern any sort of musical subject. [y/n] had begun to think he liked talking to _them_ specifically, rather than someone who liked to overall talk. _no. can it. you're not getting invested, and that's that._

**from: _@musicalities_**

then i'll send you something new, and you tell me if it's single-worthy or not

**sent from _unknown_**

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

i'm sure it's going to be.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

**from: _@musicalities_**

lolol thanks :)

**sent from _unknown_**

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

no problem :)

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

[y/n] had no idea what to type into that chat box then, but their fears were swiftly interrupted by the opening of her boss' office's door, indicating he had finally left that meeting. he apologized profusely for leaving so late and keeping his secretary in the firm, yet [y/n] did not looked bothered by it. they simply shrugged it off with a "no worries", closed their tabs on their personal computer, and packed their things — there weren't many, since they tried their hardest to keep their personal and professional life apart. however, since akaashi had contacted them asking for help, the writer took their black notebook with them to work every day, just in case the musician might need something quick. now, they could leave the office and its freezing atmosphere.

closing the door behind them, [y/n] let their mind wander about various topics while listening to music, but no subject clouded their mind more than the song they'd have to send to akaashi. with a sigh, they decided on "astronomy (if the stars could see us now)", a piece that meant a lot to them. shaking their head as if to toss those thoughts aside, [y/n] became determined to send that one, for the musician needed something single-worthy. _oh, well. "astronomy" it is._

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** :sigh: that was a long chapter !! dude it took me the whole day lmao (well, i did leave in the evening to play volleyball - which i suck at by the way - but it took me some time). did you like it? if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around !! come on, i spent hours on this :weary_eyes: jkjk !! u guys dont have to do anything if yall dont want to lmao. i love yall, and thank you so so much for reading <33

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	8. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟳 • 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘰𝘮𝘺 (𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘶𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘸)

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

another three days and the letter had arrived. akaashi couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the user's polished handwriting, as if from a royal. he knew they had talent for songwriting — and that stunned him to the furthest level — but the way their letters melted into each other in grace always caught him off guard. he had been used to seeing bokuto's messy grocery list on the fridge, after all.

handwriting and whatnot aside, keiji felt something different about the contents of that particular letter. something in his gut told him that the lyrics was far beyond anything he'd ever read before, and that made him more eager than ever to open the envelope. he opened the off-white piece of folded paper. as always, _@musicalities_ had left him a note, explaining what he was about to read.

◦'𖥸'◦

_hey! it's me again. nice talking to you yesterday! you indeed are really nice. how's life going? again, congratulations for the producer thing! i've never been near one, so i can't imagine how nervous you must have felt. well, i hope you like these lyrics i'm sending you today._

_hugs,_

_@musicalities_

◦'𖥸'◦

akaashi sighed, still moved by the writer's humbleness. and, indeed, he'd also been glad to chat with them the previous night. he had enjoyed their company — it was finally nice to be able to relax a little and just have a pleasant small talk. it did, although, worry him that their humility extended so far that they didn't recognize their writing as their own. keiji was afraid there would be further implications regarding copyright issues and the like. moreover, it hurt his morality that he was simply stealing from another writer, but that was a case for another day. he read further; the song was entitled "astronomy (if the stars could see us now)".

◦'𖥸'◦

_let me be stardust glittering through your window_

_let me be your summer fling that doesn't last enough_

_let me be your bottle, drown your feelings and you sorrow_

_let me be the fire that runs deep in your veins_

_let's not pretend that we weren't hopeless and romantic_

_let's make believe that it was happily ever after_

_show me the stars and let me bathe in our astronomy_

_hold back the tears 'cause this feelings never lasts_

_for we are the youth and we were born to lose_

_hoping against hope that we'll leave this war unscathed_

_now tell me the truth, sing our summer blues_

_let the sun sink in_

_i'll write a tragedy and you'll recite me_

_let the ink mark its path, running down the page_

_raindrops on our skin, washing all our sins_

_i gulp down, one more sip, longing for your touch_

_'cause it's the hurricane of feelings and emotions_

_there is no antidote for the rock-bottom hopeless syndrome_

_give us the medicine so we all turn happy again_

_let's all become fireproof in a world of bullets_

_for we are the youth and we were born to lose_

_hoping against hope that we'll leave this war unscathed_

_never tell me the truth, 'cause my heart can't take it_

_let the sun sink in_

_oh, yeah, lie to me and say we're not far apart, yeah_

_heal my scars and make me feel we're heart to heart_

_'cause the miles are fading out, and the bridges i have burned_

_are my way back home to you_

_for we are the youth and we were born to lose_

_hoping against hope that we'll leave this war unscathed_

_never tell me the truth, 'cause my heart can't take it_

_let the sun sink in_

◦'𖥸'◦

as he finished reading the letter, akaashi could swear he had let out a "woah". he was thoroughly impressed by the writer's abilities and, even though he had already read one of their lyrics before, they never failed to surprise him. he called for bokuto and showed him the mail he'd gotten, and it was safe to say his friend was as in awe as he was. "we need to show this to tanaka-san!" he said, in a fit of joy. keiji, of course, agreed. it didn't take 5 minutes for the huge producer to respond. himawari tanaka was distinctly thrilled with the lyrics the musician had sent her, and had sent the three of them (ichika included, naturally — she was akaashi's manager, after all, and was to meet them at the location) an invitation for her studio. they were finally going to record the single.

◦'𖥸'◦

the recording went as smoothly as planned, and thus the song was at last ready to be released. the sun had already hid itself behind the horizon, revealing the glinting moonlight that shone through the windows. it had been a long — yet pleasant nonetheless — day of recording akaashi's song. needless to say, he had enjoyed his time in the studio.

the three friends jumped in excitement, and himawari soon joined in on the joy fest. as they jumped up and down, celebrating their win, akaashi knew he had to talk to _@musicalities_. excusing himself from the commemoration, the now single-having musician grabbed his phone from his pocket and entered the "write with us" forum, clicking on the private chat tab.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

we did it! sounds great by the way, thanks for the lyrics :)

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

it seemed the writer was online, for they answered to akaashi's text rather quickly.

**from: _@musicalities_**

no biggie :)

**sent from _unknown_**

the musician smiled at the message, knowing he'd done at least an acceptable job at singing the writer's lyrics. he let out a slight chuckle as he thought to himself, _dear lord_. yet, not letting him finish his train of thought, bokuto tapped his shoulder, indicating the three of them were about to go home. keiji nodded in agreement, bidding his farewell to the producer, who had turned out to be actually a lot nicer than akaashi had taken them for in the hours they had spent together recording "astronomy". closing the private chat tab, the musician made his way out of the studio and into the car while ichika shouted to bokuto that _no, you will not drive, for the sake of our lives!_

as they arrived home and watanabe-san made sure everybody was in one piece, — koutarou had convinced her to let him drive for what he called "the last fun drive you'll ever have". additionally, he said "we're here for a good time, not a long time," completely disregarding his girlfriend's pleas. — keiji felt like venting to someone. he had to let out how much he needed to meet the person who, quite literally, had saved and skyrocketed his whole career. without them, akaashi felt as if he would have failed in the music industry and, according to his weekly streams on online platforms, he most certainly would've. he turned to his roommate, who was setting the table for pizza night.

"hey, bokuto, i need to talk to you about the writer," he said, hoping his friend wouldn't guess they were dating again. "they are so talented, i really need to meet the person who helped me through all this," he added, high on excitement, and clearly not giving koutarou time to make any inappropriate guesses. still, his friend didn't look like he would.

"well, you could talk to them, i guess," bokuto said, taking a huge bite of what was his seventh piece of pizza of the day. they did take breaks during the recording, but it seemed koutarou could never get enough of that greasy pizza.

"no shit sherlock," keiji said, unimpressed by that suggestion. in truth, akaashi hadn't tried that. he was too afraid he'd mess up the good atmosphere they had conquered with weeks of sending lyrics and text messages back and forth. but he needed more. that being said, he decided he was going to see their face, at the least. the musician reached for his phone, typing in the online forum's address once more.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

hey! i was just wondering, can we facetime or something? i really want to know how you look like.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

the blue-eyed man wondered if he wasn't being too invasive, asking personal questions about the writer's face. however, with such a quick response, keiji was divided between knowing the question was a trigger for a more defensive position from the user, or thinking they were fine with it and willing to show their face. much to keiji's dismay, the correct answer was the former.

**from: _@musicalities_**

i really don't want anyone to know who i am, and it's not personal, i swear.

**sent from _unknown_**

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

it's okay :)

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

**from: _@musicalities_**

mmkay

**sent from _unknown_**

the musician let out a dreaded sigh, placing his elbows on top of the bale and his head in between his hands, running his long fingers through his black hair. he knew he had fucked up, and that was going to haunt him for the days to come. the friendly tone the two of them had gained as pseudo-friends was now gone and he was all to blame. _ugh, why do i always ruin everything?_

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** the angst is coming !! the angst is coming !! omg, the angst is coming hehehehe i hope y'all like angst 'cause it's coming hehehehehehe (i'm sorry, i'll stop lmao). i'm proud to announce that i have finished planning this book! it will have 13 chapters total + an epilogue, and maybe a sequel??if you guys want me to write it, hehe. but that will only come out after i finish my other books and whatnot. 

i don't quite remember why i wrote these lyrics, so i can't give a lengthy explanation like i did for the last one. sorry, lolol. 

did you like this chapter? i hope u did. if u did, though, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around :)) also, thank you so so much for 800 !!! i love y'all so so much, i can't even begin to explain how much. you guys are amazing, for real <3

as always, thank you so much for reading!

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	9. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟴 • 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

[y/n] turned to their tiny-screened television to watch some random show. as they began channel surfing through the available ones — that, honestly, weren't many since they didn't have cable television — they wondered what it was like to stand atop a stage, hearing the crowd roar your name as they belt out the notes you picked for your song. [y/n] longed to be on that stage, to feel the spotlight graze their skin. alas, it was one meter too far, always one step ahead of them. the truth was, they used their lyrics as a bridge to get to that place: for one day they would be able to hear the crowd, feel the lights, and draw in one shaky breath before starting a song.

the channel in which they landed on had akaashi on the screen. the musician was doing some sort of interview: something about his music, naturally. his talents had gotten loads of attention since he made a deal with that producer, and thus his career skyrocketed; hence the interview. the person asking the questions was eager to learn about keiji's journey, and [y/n] wondered, in the back of their head, if the man would mention them. much to their dismay, he didn't.

"your lyrics are so heartfelt, akaashi-san. why is that?" the person asked, their eyes glistening against the camera's lens. one could tell they looked keenly at the blue-eyed man and his beautiful raven hair. [y/n] had seen him before on his profile picture, but they hadn't noticed how eye-catching he was. his beauty transcended society's standards, it was almost as if you could sense an aura of charm around the man.

lovely features aside, keiji seemed uneasy with the question, and [y/n] knew why. he was afraid he'd slip up about the lyrics they had been sending him, yet the writer knew that was no problem. even though the friendly atmosphere between them had been ruined with their latest online conversation, [y/n] knew it would be completely okay if keiji decided to tell them about the letters. however, he didn't.

"oh, thank you!" he said, noticing the interviewer waited for an answer. "and, to answer your question, it's because of how i see the world. it is indeed very beautiful, and seeing it unravel before my very eyes, bearing witness to all this marvellous beauty, is thoroughly inspiring. one wouldn't be able to take their eyes out of the earth if they saw it the way i did," he added, evoking a longing sigh from the interviewer.

the camera panned to the black-haired man's face, focusing him in the middle of the shot. noticing he was, in fact, being recorded, akaashi smiled at the video, a smile [y/n] would remember for days — it would be there when they closed their eyes and wanted to be fast asleep yet couldn't due to the curve of a neck and the way he averted eye contact as soon as he took note of what he was doing. his shy manner paralyzed the writer completely, as if stopped by a thousand rocks. his raven hair was all they could think about, and how they would entangle their finger into it if they had the chance and—

the television interrupted [y/n]'s train of thought. "well, you truly are a man of the words. you almost made me tear up here," the person said, pretending to wipe away a tear. "thank you so much, akaashi-san," they said to the musician, then turned to face the camera. "and this is akaashi keiji, an upcoming musician of today's era," they finished, bringing forth a round of applause from the audience, which [y/n] assumed was a recorded track. _most of television is fake._

still, what wasn't fake was keiji's eyes. they shone with determination, a sentiment only matched when one has their objective as close to themselves as akaashi did. he had the opportunity right in his hands now, something only available for him because of [y/n]. yet, he failed to even mention them, or even indirectly say there was a reason for all his inspiration. he had been so determined to play the part of the independent musician that it shot a pang of pain throughout the writer's whole body. _he could at least acknowledge me..._

although all this bothered [y/n] deeply, they recognized their own fault in it. they had been the one to ask keiji not to mention them anywhere, and even the one to drive their chat on the forum to the awkward atmosphere into which it turned. they didn't want to be seen in person by the man, for they were afraid he might feel disappointed in them: maybe it would be because of the way they walked, or talked, or smiled, or winked, or looked, or was. all of [y/n] was a reason to worry according to them, and it was with great distaste that they dismissed the man's proposal. _i'm not worthy of his attention._

shoving all those envious and worrisome thoughts aside, [y/n] mustered a laugh, glad to see his career fly. he had asked to see them in person, but they were just as happy as he seemed to be in the interview watching him from afar. yes, that's how it should have been from the start.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** i told y'all the angst was coming heheheheh !!!!! also, do y'all rlly like my writing? cause idk, not many people are reading this, and i wonder if it's because of something about the writing or the plot or whatever. idk.... well, anyways !!

did you like the chapter? you guys already know what i'm going to say, so i'm not even gonna say it anymore lmao, y'all r probably annoyed by now. still, how are u guys? i hope ur great. i myself am good, since i can take this lovely christmas day to relax and maybe write some more throughout the day, we'll see. also, HAPPY HOLIDAYS !! if you don't celebrate christmas, that's fine! i hope all of you have a great day <3 oh, another thing: i'll spend a week away on a trip and, since i'm going to a place that doesn't have internet, i won't be able to update for a week. which is really sad :(( i'll miss u guys <3

in relation to the "build-a-book" form, thank you so much! we've already got more than 160 responses, and i'm going through ever single one of them in a spreadsheet so i can track all of the results. the form closes on january 1st so, if you haven't answered it yet, go to my misc book and find the latest update, the link is in the comments! also, if you can, please spread the word about it. we'll need as many responses as we can get :)) tysm !!

i love y'all so so much, don't u ever forget that. :)

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	10. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟬𝟵 • 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

a week had passed since akaashi recorded "astronomy". he'd had loads of fun while doing it, but the one thing that bugged him — a devilish thought gnawing at the back of his mind — was how awkward the atmosphere had been when he finished talking to _@musicalities_. he truly wanted to meet them in person, to thank them for what they had done for him, yet they insisted on staying anonymous. in reality, it indeed was their choice: however, that didn't mean it didn't bother him.

on top of all tension between the musician and the writer, keiji also had been dealing with a tormenting headache, due to all the work the man had to do in order to keep his career going. he now had a management team, — which came along with signing the contract with himawari — but akaashi still had to do some of the marketing work and the like.

with endless meetings to decide the slightest things, (tanaka-san was indeed very meticulous) keiji had no free time whatsoever, which helped him deal with the strain regarding the situation with @musicalities: if he had no time to talk to them, he could use that as an excuse not to say he was sorry. needless to say, the work one had to put in to advertise two songs was driving the blue-eyed man crazy. he wondered how ichika did all that on her own before. _well, i didn't have many songs around then. or a platform, for that matter._

to add onto that was the fame: the never-ending photoshoots for "up-and-coming artists", the long interviews that dragged on for a whole day, the text messages on his new social media accounts asking for akaashi to sing something for them. the media attention was piling up and was definitely a cause for his headache. every day was a struggle, still, what kept the man going was knowing that one day he could meet the writer in person. now, that had been taken away from him.

he decided to turn to bokuto, who was studying code and thus knew his way around computers, to help him with that issue. "hey, bokuto, do you mind doing me a favor?" he asked in the most polite way he could.

bokuto was quick to answer, glad to be able to help his friend. "yeah, man, of course. what is it?" he asked back. that being out of the way, akaashi started to explain in detail how bad he wanted to meet _@musicalities_ , and how worse they wanted to stay away from him in all and every way possible.

he asked him if he could trace the writer's ip address to at least find out where they live, and bokuto sighed in response. "okay, i could do that. but don't you think that's overstepping boundaries a bit?" he asked, worried his friend might get himself in trouble for looking into the writer's background. keiji simply shrugged that one off, confident nothing bad would happen to him.

that being said, bokuto took akaashi's computer and began his search. his golden eyes darted to and fro while he typed away on the keyboard, keeping the "write with us" forum open in case he needed to send some message to the writer. for some a good half an hour, all keiji could hear was the click-clacking of bokuto's fingers on the keys as the black-and-gray haired man did his best to find out where akaashi's secret writer lived. some more minutes had passed, and koutarou finally got to his answer: the user lived in akita, a city far away from tokyo, where keiji was based.

suddenly, a change. koutarou widened his eyes, his eyebrows half the way into his forehead. he looked more like an owl now than ever, yet he couldn't let his friend see it. he swiftly returned to his composure, and told akaashi he hadn't found out where the writer lived. shit, the blue-eyed man muttered under his breath. bokuto lifted his hands up as if to surrender, indicating he saw his friend was pissed, yet there was nothing he could do. "look, dude, you're gonna meet them one day. i'm sure you will," he said, patting akaashi on the shoulder, trying to comfort him. akaashi's eyes weren't the only blue thing in the room now, for the musician was disappointed beyond measure.

◦'𖥸'◦

even though [y/n] and akaashi were left on weird terms after their latest talk, the writer decided to keep the forum's private chat tab open — "just in case," they would say, "he decides to say he's sorry", while knowing all too well that wouldn't happen. they sat on their desk and did some filing for the firm in advance, worried the workload would be too much to handle if they didn't. their fingers typed as fast as they possibly could, and their eyelids were slowly closing from overwhelming tiredness. still, [y/n] kept on filing and filing and filing until they could file no longer due to a stress headache. the room spun around them and their sight was foggy. the secretary placed their head in between their hands and let out an exhausted sigh. _this is too much._

closing their work-related tab and moving to the forum, — hoping to see, of course, an apology from the musician — [y/n] noticed how akaashi had stayed an unhealthy amount of time online on their chat. well, [y/n] couldn't be so sure if he actually was on their chat per se, however, they felt as if he was doing something on the forum itself. still, he never tried reaching out to them: whether that would be just for a quick chat, or to _actually say he was sorry_. the writer laughed out loud. _stop it, that's not going to happen_ , they thought.

well, given he'd been truly eager to meet [y/n] in person, and now he's unusually online in the chatroom yet refuses to talk to the writer... _shit_. [y/n] hurriedly went over all their social media, even the ones they knew akaashi couldn't trace back to them. it was in truth a speedrun of everything they had ever done in their life — deleting all pictures, changing all usernames. in reality, the writer was going the extra mile to prevent the musician from knowing where they lived, which would be the first step to finding out who they were. now, there was only one thing left to do: take a stand.

**from: _@musicalities_**

akaashi-san, i don't want you to find out where i am. please don't come here.

**sent from _unknown_**

◦'𖥸'◦

bokuto could sense akaashi knew something wasn't right, and that wasn't just for the fact the code student couldn't find out where _@musicalities_ lived. however, he did nothing, choosing to act normal in order to prevent any other suspicions arising in his roommate's mind. koutarou knew keiji was the farthest from stupid, and would definitely notice if he tried too hard to prove he didn't, in fact, find the writer's address. hence the inordinate quietness coming from bokuto, a man who could barely keep himself steady in a spinning chair. akaashi's eyebrows furrowed and his demeanor changed from a downcast one to a questioning one.

bokuto had to say something to protect _@musicalities'_ request. "well, that's that. oh, by the way, i'm moving in with ichika, is that okay?" _good job, bokuto. go ahead and drop that bomb on him. good job._ koutarou sighed on the inside.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** heyo !! only five more chapters til the end of the book !!! how are we feeling about that? lmao i'm nervous cause i dont know if yall are gonna like the ending :sobs: anyways, how are you today? i am great !! i recently got way better from being sick (let's just say that my whole body rejected lactose for a week) ,, and i am fine enough to travel with my family tomorrow! we're gonna go to a place that has no internet, though :( that's why i updated both my oneshots book and this one today. did you like the update? if you did, please consider giving it a vote and sharing it around. i'm rlly sad that this book isn't doing as well as elementary did :( oh well. stream gerard way !!! thank u for reading, as always <3

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	11. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟬 • 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

it was true that keiji had been bothered with bokuto's comment about how he was going to move in with ichika — after all, the two of them had been friends for forever, and the tiny apartment in which they lived wouldn't feel the same without his loud buddy there. plus, he felt as if their friendship would slowly fall apart without akaashi's stoic expression or bokuto's signature "hey hey hey!". however, it was also true that the musician knew koutarou needed his space, and he was indeed glad that he was about to live with his girlfriend. nonetheless, akaashi had never been the one to express his feelings, and now wouldn't be the day he would.

trying to shake away any thoughts regarding bokuto moving out, the blue-eyed man entered the "write with us" private chat room once more. the ever-so-often clicking of the button that sent him to the private chat tab was driving keiji insane, given he'd already considered starting a conversation with _@musicalities_ at least a thousand times only that morning, yet failed to even send them a "hello". the tension between the two, still, is what drove him to his edge. after all, he never even properly clicked on the conversation, deciding to watch the writer's profile picture from afar.

nevertheless, not clicking on the chat made him feel like a coward. and there isn't one thing that bothers a "risking-it-all" musician more than feeling like a coward. he clicked on the chat.

**from: _@musicalities_**

akaashi-san, i don't want you to find out where i am. please don't come here.

**sent from _unknown_**

immediately after seeing that text, akaashi's face turned into a frown. when had that message been sent? he hadn't read it. and he knew their latest conversation had left their relationship in shackles, yet none of them had sent each other anything after all that. the one person that had probably logged into the chatroom could only be... _wait a fucking minute..._ "BOKUTO!" akaashi shouted, eager to punch his friend in the face, happy news about moving in with girlfriend or not.

◦'𖥸'◦

with no one to confide in about long lost lyrics or poetry that never saw the light of day, [y/n] stayed at home alone, like they always did. they ever so desperately wanted to emancipate themselves from their parents, yet living alone never felt like such a curse. with only the slow rise and fall of their own breathing to hear, the secret writer decided to turn on the television — maybe watch a show, maybe fall asleep on the old couch.

slowly but surely, they didn't feel so alone. thoughts crept onto their mind, like a spider crawling out of its den and atop the web. they twiddled mindlessly with the strings, creating a melody of agony and anxiety. _why didn't akaashi respond to my text? he was clearly trying to figure out where i lived. is he really going to ignore me like that?_ the spider inched on deeper and deeper, and into the most secluded parts of the writer's mind it went. _how does he have the guts to just do that and leave? does he hate me now?_ and deeper. _well, i'm not important enough for him to hate me._ and deeper. _yeah, i should just shut up._

the first channel showing was a news channel about music. "ugh," [y/n] sighed, "of course". it hadn't even shown keiji's blue eyes or raven hair, yet the writer already knew it was about to. his face flooded every since music-related tv channel, or social media platform for that matter. and not just that, it also flooded [y/n]'s mind. the spider just wouldn't leave the goddamned web and, as it slithered further down, it got to where it wanted to be: [y/n] wanted nothing to do with keiji anymore.

of course, they still planned on sending him lyrics every now and then. still, they couldn't bear the thought of the musician for some reason they still did not recognize. they ran through the options of what they were feeling in their head, hoping to find a decent answer to that gut-wrenching, punch-inducing feeling that turned their stomach into jelly. was it jealousy? not likely. was it envy? more likely, yet not really. was it disappointment? _yep. hit the nail in the head_ , they thought, disgusted at the sight of the musician's face. [y/n] turned off the tv.

◦'𖥸'◦

bokuto came out of the shower with only a towel wrapped around his waist and one drying his hair, and it was safe to say the man was drenched in water. his black-and-grey hair sent tiny little droplets of water around his face or down his muscled back, yet akaashi was too angry at his friend to notice it — even though it wet the entire ground in which koutarou stood.

the musician walked to the code student. "did you send a text to _@musicalities_?" he tried phrasing his question as neatly and saying it as clearly as he could, still his anger took the better of him, making the question sound rushed and mumbled. bokuto frowned. "did you send a text to _@musicalities_?" he asked again, trying to sound as crystal as he could once more. koutarou frowned again, yet this time it wasn't due to not understanding what the musician had said.

"um... not really? they sent me a text — well, _you_ — but i didn't answer it, so no," he replied in an attempt to ease his friend's visible annoyance. he knew that, if he were a cartoon, there would be fumes coming out of his ears and his face would go all red. koutarou was glad he wasn't a cartoon. "why?"

"wait, let me rephrase the question: is the text they sent you the reason why you said you hadn't been able to trace their ip?" akaashi asked. _his face is red but there aren't fumes yet. maybe i'm still in the safe zone_ , the semi-naked man thought, bringing his second towel closer to his face to dry off the sweat that had appeared in his forehead, mingling with the water.

"uh... probably?" he said, but the affirmation sounded like a question. "i mean, i didn't want to do something that they wouldn't be comfortable with, you know?"

"BUT THAT WAS THE WHOLE POINT? i-" akaashi stammered, but decided to stop in his track. "you know what? i don't care. in fact, thank you for doing that, you're saving me a whole bunch of 'privacy invasion' trouble. just- just go get dressed, for fuck's sake," he said, trying to put an end to the conversation.

however, the raven-haired man had no such luck. "wait, is that why you chose to live with ichika? are you guilty of what you've done and now you want to avoid me? how great of you." he turned around to ask his friend — but, frankly, bokuto did not seem so much his friend as he seemed his enemy as of now. the toweled man looked sullen, as if he didn't know why he was being attacked like that. he tried muttering something, anything that would make akaashi feel better about this whole situation he'd gotten himself in, but no words came out of his mouth. he decided to close it, the sound of his steps dying down as he made his way back to the bathroom to get dressed.

on the other end, keiji sighed heavily. he couldn't believe he had ruined things with the two people he cared about the most: his best friend and his savior. _i can't believe this._

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** hey !! im back with another chapter, hehe <3 i promised i would update this today and i did even though im almost sleeping with my face on the computer so an applause, please :claps: thank you, thank you. and BOY have i got news for yall !!!!!! this bitch is officially.......drum roll, please........a fucking simp !! yes, you got it right (or didn't idk) i have no one but myself, yet i am simping for a dude. honestly, that's really funny cause i spent a whole year after coming out as bi saying men ain't shit, yet here i am, head over heels for one. but the worst part is: homie doesn't even care. in brazil, we've got this phrase that goes "nem tchum", which means "he/she/they doesn't/don't even care". well, i guess. idk, brazilian phrases are weird, but great. 

anyways, how are you guys? i hope yall are well. if u aint tho, dont hesitate to come talk to me (if ur comfortable with it), im all ears !! i love u guys so so much <3 as always, thank you so much for reading !!

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	12. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟭 • 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

as friday struck the calendar that month, akaashi felt morose. as he sulked about in his apartment, the absence of his friend slowly creeping in and telling him he was alone in that mess, the musician seemed as hopeless as ever — not even music or a huge record deal could change that. he had finally disappointed everyone around him, and even he himself knew he couldn't go back. keiji slumped himself on his working desk chair once more, hoping to hear from _@musicalities_ like he always did. yet, with a sigh, the raven-haired man realized he had also turned things sour between him and the writer.

suddenly, an idea popped into his head. it sounded crazy, impossible even, but who was he if not someone who'd risk it all for their dreams? he started to type in his computer. _train tickets for akita, tohoku on saturday._ "good! it's done," he said as he booked the trip. "now all i need to do is let them know..."

still, how could he? how could he send a message to the one person that stood beside him the most, yet the person he failed to impress? the writer had done it all for him — after all, he would have been just a stick in the mud if it hadn't been for _@musicalities_. all he wanted was to see their face, to thank them for their hard work, but now they seemed so far away, so out of reach from his hands that he could barely fathom even getting close to them or receiving those blessed letters again. he had burned the bridges, cut the ties, and severed the relationships he'd valued the most. and for what? fame? money? music? it riddled even the man himself how he'd gotten so far down that godforsaken rabbit hole.

still, who was he if not someone who'd risk it all for their dreams?

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

i know you don't want to see me personally, but please go to the aeon mall on sunday, i will host a tiny concert there.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

◦'𖥸'◦

[y/n] felt as if they'd hit rock bottom and it was finally over, yet rock bottom's much buffier, and definitely angrier older brother had come back to hit them. _oh well, it isn't a friday night without wallowing in self-pity, right?_ they sighed as they plopped themselves right onto the creaking desk chair, its creaks now sadder and harsher than ever. the whole world around them seemed to turn to grey — this dismal shade of misery, its despair corrupting the air and filling the writer's lungs. their heart felt like a burden to bear, a heavy, anvil-like load they'd have to carry with them for the rest of their life. the writer had to hold back an urge to laugh: the situation was in such shambles it could be comic. or it would be, if it weren't so dire. and, to make matters complete, [y/n] decided to open the chat.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

i know you don't want to see me personally, but please go to the aeon mall on sunday, i will host a tiny concert there.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

"wow," they scoffed at the screen, hoping their mockery and condescension got through to him. "and he has the guts to even talk to me, huh? what a jerk. in fact, this is probably a twisted way to get me to go back to him, to get me to talk to him again. he's such an asshole!" they shouted, closing the tab and getting up from their seat. it was true that akaashi had ruined everything, but a teensy voice in the writer's head told them not to let go of him just yet.

"i hate him, i hate him, i hate him!" [y/n] touched their face only to feel droplets of tears rolling down their cheek. "ugh!" _i can't believe i'm crying because of him, they thought, but suddenly got an idea. you know what? even if this thing is just bullshit, i'm going. i'm going to show him i'm the bigger person._

◦'𖥸'◦

while [y/n] was quite busy with smashing their computer's keyboard in search for something that would calm them down, akaashi had other matters to solve for, in a matter of minutes, all he'd tried to build with that train ticket would crumble. someone knocked on his door. it was ichika.

"i scheduled a concert for you on saturday!" akaashi's mind went blank. if he closed his eyes and went into his brain, all he would be able to see would be this huge canvas of white, bringing him sorrow and utmost sadness. agony, even. ichika's voice drowned out and all he could hear was a loud buzzing noise that seemed to come from inside his head. it was as if he'd just been pronounced dead, and the monitors beside the hospital bed showed this excruciating flatline. yet, the pain wasn't the hardest part: the sound was the worst of it all.

still, ichika managed to cut through the musician's dissociation. "it's going to be a huge crowd, they're going to love you! i'm really excited-"

"i can't go," he said, crossing his fingers so watanabe-san wouldn't be as pissed with him as he thought she'd be. after all, he didn't want to ruin things with another person. a _nd bokuto would be so disappointed..._ nonetheless, he had to say it. he couldn't go.

"what? what do you mean you can't-" his manager sounded surprised. she would expect him to love the idea and go right with it, yet his phrase caught her off guard.

"i said, _i can't go_."

ichika let out a scoff, and keiji could practically see her eyes widening and turning her usual bubbly smile into a frown. she'd do that whenever bokuto did something stupid, but now matters were a thousand times more serious: not going to the concert would imply that ichika would have to make a hundred calls, reschedule a thousand appointments, and say a million prayers to the gods above that tanaka-san wouldn't fire her and akaashi. still, he couldn't go. "wow. fame has really gotten to your head, huh?"

"i-" the musician tried to make things right. yet, as he'd seen before, that was impossible.

"don't stress it." she walked away, but stood in the door frame to look at him. "i just wanted to help you, you know? guess you don't even care about that." she left the flat, slamming the door as she went. keiji let out a tired sigh. he hadn't meant to hurt her, but he _really_ couldn't go. oh, well. guess now he had to.

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** ugh i just love mitski so much !!!!! i'm sorry for the angst chapter tho, things will be better soon !! or not !! just stick around and see !! LMAOO i'm sorry uytfgvhjuyt also i'm so sorry for not updating this book for ages, so this chapter goes out to @taithigh who left a message on my mb asking for me to update lmaoo, tysm love !! i hope u guys enjoyed the chapter (even though it probably made u cry, especially with this song), and if you did, please consider voting and leaving a comment !! ur comments always inspire me to write more hehe :) as always, thank you so so much for reading this far (we're close to the end, hang on!) <3

signing off, 

— 𝖒.


	13. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟮 • 𝘱𝘢𝘱𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘴

**tw: description of a panic attack.**

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

keiji let out a melancholic sigh, his sight suddenly turning grey. he hadn't meant to hurt his manager, and he certainly hadn't meant to ruin his career. now, without ichika and the writer, the man would be alone for good. he had already turned things sour with his friend merely days ago, and now it was watanabe-san's turn. he hoped she would try and understand him, but that hope was far too much for him to expect from the woman. he had done enough to wound everyone.

in a matter of minutes, bokuto stormed into the apartment like it was his all over again. akaashi hadn't expected him to come over, and he wondered what in heaven's name could it be that made his friend stomp his way to him. _oh, okay._ remembering his pseudo-fight with ichika, he now had a slight notion of what might have happened to anger his ex-roommate so much. he sighed, ready for another relationship to be ruined.

"akaashi, why is ichika upset and why did she say you were an asshole?" to keiji's surprise, bokuto's tone certainly didn't match his body language. the entirety of his facial expression screamed "i want to punch you, but i'm holding myself back from murdering my best friend", but his voice was the most collected he could muster. akaashi knew that what he was about to say would vex the grey-haired man even more, and it could mean they would be friends no longer. nevertheless, he had to say it. the words ached in his throat, his breath hissing in between his teeth, hoping to set free his indignation with all this. he had tried to make amends, after all. then why did everybody suddenly hate him?

"she did? wow, she really must be a bitch to say that-"

the musician was quickly interrupted by a now furious bokuto koutarou. "shut up. okay? shut the fuck up. i've been dealing with your bullshit for too long. you can be a narcissistic prick all you want, just not to my girlfriend. understood?" _narcissistic prick? when was i ever that? akaashi thought, not a single clue in his head. i was trying to make everything better! what's wrong with that?_

his mind ran amok around the situation, turning his heart into a berserk animal inside a cage. he couldn't deal with that. he couldn't deal with the exasperation of being friendless. he couldn't deal with not being able to count with bokuto for any longer. heavy breaths left his mouth, his lungs collapsing like a building going through its demolition. thinning, and thinning, and thinning, the raven-haired man wouldn't be able to breathe for much longer. lightheaded, he barely noticed when salty tears pricked his eyes, his vision already foggy from the dissociation. he didn't notice the tears, nor did he notice his friend had already left.

he had to make this right. he had to fix everything. but now, he had to do it by himself. this whole matter was thrusted into his frail musician hands by the greater hand of fate, and the vulture he saw once when he couldn't write his music swept past him another time, weeping tears of despair. _oh, yes,_ akaashi realized, his right hand touching the side of his cheek, _these are my own tears._ he opened the chat, knowing that what he had to do would hurt him even further.

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

i won't be able to be at the mall because of personal issues. i hope you understand.

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

now, all there was left to do was wait. and so he did.

◦'𖥸'◦

on the other hand, [y/n] wanted nothing to do with the musician. not even sending him lyrics — for that would be considered the highest amount of effort from the writer. _sending him lyrics, ha!_ [y/n] scoffed, _as if._ _in fact, i will block him from all social media. i don't want to see him. at all._ [y/n]'s objective was to ease off the raven-haired man's attempts of trying to see them, but then why did this doubt scratch their brain like so?

the writer hoped the man would rot in agony, their anger filling up their whole soul to the point they could hold it no longer, and let out a shrieking scream. they didn't even care if the neighbours thought they were going through it, because they indeed were. _let them know. let them know this world is unfair and rotten._ akaashi keiji was dead to them, but then why did he never seem to leave? his ghost roamed around [y/n]'s world aimlessly — just to haunt them along their agonizing road. they had said they would go to the concert at the mall to be the bigger person, but then why did they also want to see him for once and for all? akaashi keiji was a curse, a curse [y/n] could never let go of, no matter how hard they tried.

[y/n] grabbed the closest thing they could see and, fortunately, that was their pen and paper. the black-cased notebook hid their deepest secrets, secrets they had let out just for akaashi's eyes, and later for the whole world — although also hidden behind the musician's chiseled face. they started to write, pouring their heart and soul atop the blank pages.

◦'𖥸'◦

_i don't think i love you anymore_

_'cause maybe if i loved you i'd be sure_

_that you would never leave me in the dark_

_with nothing to lean on but a spark_

_you shine brighter than a thousand suns, yeah, that's true_

_bright enough that icarus would fly to you_

_but i am a flightless bird, i live among the shelves_

_of dusty books and hardships that were never meant to be weld_

_i wanted to see the world the way you saw it_

_and now i'm blind from the light you took from me_

_oh, darling, can't you see i'm being honest?_

_i only want to be the best i can be_

_i'll fly the city on a paper plane_

_and land atop your stove_

_i'll burn and churn as i erupt in flames,_

_for this was all for love_

_but did you ever need me? oh, did you ever care?_

_if i went supernova, would you even dare to catch my dust?_

_or would you be compliant to what they said to you?_

_they told you i'm the black hole that you're being pulled through_

_i don't think i love you anymore_

_'cause maybe if i loved you i'd be sure_

_that you would never leave me in the dark_

_with nothing to lean on but a spark_

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

 **a/n:** ayooo this update is exclusively for @TSUKKIBERRI ,, sea ,, my love <333333 sea, i hope you liked this hehe. jkjk, this is for everyone that still reads this, lmao. i hope you guys liked the chapter! and hehe, do you remember the quote that started the book's description? yeah, that's on this song, hehehe. also, i really love these lyrics, idk why, they mean a lot to me. additionally, did you guys like the song? i posted that a couple days ago and it surprisingly did very well on soundcloud. i hope u guys liked it !! and if u did, pls consider voting on this chapter and sharing this book around ,, ty so so much <3 as always, thank you so much for reading!

_ps: a message to mitski - i decided to follow your advice and be the cowboy. but, please stop this madness. i can't stop saying yeehaw and my friends are all slowly leaving me._

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


	14. 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝟭𝟯 • 𝘪𝘧 𝘪 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘪 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘬𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ─────

[y/n] knew they would regret it. they would definitely regret it for as long as they lived, but they had to do it — even if it went against their fair reason not to. their steps took them to what felt like their ruin, doomsday creeping on the corner, inching closer and closer. although keiji apparently wasn't a man of his word, they did expect to see him host a tiny concert: just him and a tiny crowd, a tiny guitar and a tiny smile smoothing its way into his face as he saw [y/n]. _no, that's unrealistic. akaashi wouldn't do that._ but, if he wouldn't, then why was he so eager to meet the writer?

shaking all possible keiji-related thoughts, [y/n] walked inside the mall and past the stairs until they finally found the spot designated for a concert. as per usual, the raven-haired man's name was plastered all across the walls in huge placards. one could also see his deep blue eyes in brochures people passed around, his gaze following the writer as they darted their own eyes to and fro, expecting to see his slim figure.

only they didn't.

the one thing they saw of the musician was a close-up of his flowy hair on the big television screen, playing for a crowd of thousands. they saw him laugh at the people, his smile infecting the whole multitude as he strummed guitar chords and began to sing his songs. _[y/n]'s songs._ as much as the writer did not want to be known on a worldwide basis, they expected keiji to at least give hints about their participation in his success. but, of course, even that was part of the man's failure.

"yeah, it wasn't worth it anyway," the writer thought out loud as they made their way to the exit of the mall. to say they were "disappointed" would be a total euphemism, for their disgrace was far greater than that. they wanted to kick, to scream, to shout at the world how much of an asshole akaashi keiji was. _the renowned musician,_ they thought. the one with the crown and the crowd, always adorned in gold and petals. the one with the ghostwriter behind him, but not a single thought about them in his mind. the selfish, pretentious, snobby son of a bitch. the one [y/n] trusted yet broke their heart.

opening the door to an empty house, the writer sat once again on their uncomfortable couch, its cushion creases slowly crawling under their skin and getting to them as the most cozy they'd ever get in that gelid home.

it was like being on the desk chair again, only moments ago, when all they had to bear was a heavy heart. now, tons of anvils fell atop their frail body, turning it all as gelid as their metal as they slowly but surely killed them. again, "disappointment" wasn't enough of a word to describe what they felt — no, "despair" was indeed it. nothing could make it better, and nothing — not even the chance to expose their lyrics to the world again — made the whole journey of meeting akaashi seem worth it. they wanted him to be dead to them, only to have him stick at the back of their mind like glue. nevertheless, forgetting him was necessary.

as they cried and cried and cried and cried again, [y/n] felt as if their whole world was shaking, keiji's voice barely an echo in their head. nothing and nobody could take all that pain away, all the years of hard-work and self-sacrifice wasted, all the tears behind the words, all the ache behind the beauty, all the madness and the fire. no one could make it all better, except for the one man who had ruined it all. and, as the night faded to black, worlds turned to dust, and people turned to stone, [y/n] wallowed in hurt in their dark home.

the phone buzzed.

◦'𖥸'◦

**from: _@akaashikeiji_**

sorry for the disturbance. can you meet me at the park near the mall?

**sent from _tokyo, japan_**

───── ◦'𖥸'◦ ───── **  
**

 **a/n:** iuytrdfxcvghjuytr this is the last chapter of this book !!! special dedication goes to @KEIJIBEAN , @TSUKKIBERRI , @keijiclip , @KEIJIGLOW , and @KEIJIL0VE !! figured y'all would like this one, hehehe :) thank you so so much for reading this book, and thank you even more for putting up with my weird updating schedule (if i ever had one lmao). the love you guys have shown for this story is unbelievable. i will thank y'all properly on another chapter, but for real: thank you so so so so so much. i love you guys <3

signing off, 

— 𝖒. 


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